The Bridge on the River KwaiHumanity has a great capacity for adaptability; it is a blessing and a curse. The Bridge on the River Kwai is a World War II movie set in the deep jungles of Myanmar (at that time known as Burma), where the occupying Japanese maintain a POW camp. The camp is run by the stern Colonel Saito (Sessue Hayakawa), who is charged with building a railway bridge over the eponymous River Kwai (actually the Khwae Yai River), or be forced to commit hara-kiri in shame. To accomplish this, he puts his prisoners to work--including the officers, in violation of the Geneva Convention--until the arrival of British Colonel Nicholson (Alec Guinness). Both men clash in a battle of egos, determined to uphold their own interpretations of honor and discipline.
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Made in 1957 (and adapted from the novel of the same name written in 1952), The Bridge on the River Kwai can look back on World War II and use this as a stage for exploring some basic human truths within the framework of a war movie. This is exemplified best in Nicholson, who at first seems adamant in upholding the conventions of war in the face of death and torture, yet ultimately aids his captors in their mission against his own allies. How can this be? The greatest aspect of this film is in how there is no simple answer, but many possibilities. Watching this film, no one could look upon Nicholson and conclude that he is a "coward". Quite the contrary, because his insistence on keeping the men under his command as soldiers and not slaves shows that dignity is a paramount virtue for Nicholson...at least at first. Discovering Nicholson's values and watching them subtly shift is the most exciting drama in The Bridge on the River Kwai. His obvious foil is Saito, who views all prisoners as having been shamed for being captured alive, so they do not deserve to be protected, officer or otherwise. Saito has a very different sense of "honor" than Nicholson, yet despite this, they both share this aspect in common: a sense of soldierly honor and duty. The less obvious foil to Nicholson is an American POW named "Commander" Shears (William Holden), who cynically remarks that clinging to the values of civilization so far removed from civilization doesn't make sense. He is the "id" to Nicholson's "superego", as it were. When the opportunity to escape arises, despite Nicholson advising against it, Shears makes a break for it and narrowly escapes with his life. In turn, we come to discover Saito's claims that there are no fences in his camp because they are "on an island" are false, and Shears manages to come into the custody of the Allied forces based in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka).
From here, The Bridge on the River Kwai follows two parallel storylines, with Shears coopted into returning to the camp by Major Warden (Jack Hawkins) of "Force 316". Warden coerces Shears by revealing that he--and the U.S. Navy--are aware that he was posing as an officer to enjoy special privileges in the camp (and afterward). As a result, the Navy has placed Shears under Warden's command as a kind of punishment. Warden believes that Shears may be instrumental in guiding a small team of commandos to the bridge, where he intends to blow it up as the first Japanese train crosses over. Although less compelling than Nicholson and Saito's battle of wills, this parallel story helps to illustrate a different attitude about military service, an important and practical contrast. Shears certainly acts like a "coward" for much of the film, lying and bribing his captors to avoid work, but especially by way of his rationale for his false identity. When asked to return to aid in the mission to halt the Japanese advance, he tries to come up with any excuse to avoid putting himself into harm's way again. It takes Warden's subtle insinuations of retaliation to finally get him to comply. But it is when the climax to The Bridge on the River Kwai finally comes that heroism and cowardice are redefined, as it had been doing throughout the entire film. Consider how the film slyly manipulates our desire to see Nicholson emerge victorious by marking him early on as a heroic figure, standing up for his values. In short, we're sympathetic toward this man instead of Shears, who is a weasel for much of the movie. And yet, given that this movie was intended for Western audiences, it becomes a fantastic irony that we find ourselves rooting for this milestone of Japanese imperialism to be completed, and for Warden's mission to destroy it to fail. In this, The Bridge on the River Kwai performs a magic trick on us, subverting our sympathies so that only once Nicholson has his tragic revelation at the end, so do we.
War movies historically rely on engendering audience sympathy toward characters who show bravery in the face of the enemy. By this definition, Nicholson is a hero while Shears is not. This point is driven home repeatedly after he endures a lengthy isolation in "the oven", a corrugated metal cell designed to break his will. When this fails, Saito tries a softer touch, including corned beef and Scotch. Yet Nicholson wisely understands that despite these threats and bribes that he has the leverage. Should Saito kill Nicholson, he might incite more escape attempts. More important for him, he'd lose men needed to build the bridge he is accountable for having completed in a few months. Ultimately, Nicholson succeeds by identifying flaws in the Japanese engineers' plans for the bridge, compelling Saito to let him and his officers adopt the administrative role over their soldiers that Nicholson was demanding in the first place. The proud Saito is forced to concoct an excuse about "amnesty", coinciding with a victory over Russia a half century ago to save face; but after this show of bravery, everyone in camp truly knows who commands respect now. Civilized society on the whole considers those who thwart brutish violence with wit to be heroes. When Nicholson and his officers hold what is essentially a board meeting with Saito about the revised bridge construction, all that Saito can do is look on in stunned acquiescence. Little by little, it appears that Nicholson is chipping away at Saito's authority, undermining the Japanese and demoralizing his captors from within by way of his efficiency and discipline. This would be clever but not all that revealing about human nature if this was where Nicholson's inner motivations ended.
Right after this, Shears' story takes over, and it becomes crucial in laying the groundwork to reveal just how easily our assumptions can be misled and misguided. Shears may be appear to be a "coward" at the film's start, but he makes valid points about the nature of war and survival. His journey through the jungle and mountains is a lush and vibrant trek, something that I have no doubt inspired Terrence Malick's The Thin Red Line. He, Warden, and a young, green soldier named Lieutenant Joyce (Geoffrey Horne) enjoy the company of several lovely Thai maidens who help carry the plastic explosives for them. (Romance is implied between them and Joyce, and probably Shears). The film's critical moment about how deadly their mission truly is comes after a Japanese scouting party finds them bathing in the stream, leading to a bloody firefight. The threat becomes real, steeling Shears' nerves, essentially putting him in the key position of guaranteeing the mission's success--that being to deny the Japanese an avenue to continue their imperialist invasion of Asia. When we return to Nicholson, he is complaining to the camp doctor, Major Clipton (James Donald)--who has been skeptical that building a reliable bridge for the Japanese is in their best interests--that they have a "crisis" on their hands. That crisis is that the bridge will not be done on time. Suddenly, Nicholson has supplanted Saito, since he is now the one driven to see the bridge completed on time, and even compels some of the sick and wounded--and, ironically, his own officers--into working first-hand on it. It is here that audiences should become concerned that Nicholson's motivations have shifted from slyly subverting Saito's authority and that he has instead become what Clipton had warned him about becoming from the start: a collaborator. Is this because Nicholson has become too sympathetic to Saito, or is it that he so driven by order and discipline himself that his drive surmounts his patriotism? It's from here that The Bridge on the River Kwai flips the script, forcing us to redefine our sense of heroism (and the film's heroes), leading to an uneasy feeling that lasts beyond those final tragic words Clipton delivers before the credits roll: "Madness...madness..."
Recommended for: Fans of a morally complex war story that forces us to examine (and then reexamine) how we define heroism and bravery. The Bridge on the River Kwai is a gripping and tense tale; expect to find yourself whistling the "Colonel Bogey March" for some time afterward.
From here, The Bridge on the River Kwai follows two parallel storylines, with Shears coopted into returning to the camp by Major Warden (Jack Hawkins) of "Force 316". Warden coerces Shears by revealing that he--and the U.S. Navy--are aware that he was posing as an officer to enjoy special privileges in the camp (and afterward). As a result, the Navy has placed Shears under Warden's command as a kind of punishment. Warden believes that Shears may be instrumental in guiding a small team of commandos to the bridge, where he intends to blow it up as the first Japanese train crosses over. Although less compelling than Nicholson and Saito's battle of wills, this parallel story helps to illustrate a different attitude about military service, an important and practical contrast. Shears certainly acts like a "coward" for much of the film, lying and bribing his captors to avoid work, but especially by way of his rationale for his false identity. When asked to return to aid in the mission to halt the Japanese advance, he tries to come up with any excuse to avoid putting himself into harm's way again. It takes Warden's subtle insinuations of retaliation to finally get him to comply. But it is when the climax to The Bridge on the River Kwai finally comes that heroism and cowardice are redefined, as it had been doing throughout the entire film. Consider how the film slyly manipulates our desire to see Nicholson emerge victorious by marking him early on as a heroic figure, standing up for his values. In short, we're sympathetic toward this man instead of Shears, who is a weasel for much of the movie. And yet, given that this movie was intended for Western audiences, it becomes a fantastic irony that we find ourselves rooting for this milestone of Japanese imperialism to be completed, and for Warden's mission to destroy it to fail. In this, The Bridge on the River Kwai performs a magic trick on us, subverting our sympathies so that only once Nicholson has his tragic revelation at the end, so do we.
War movies historically rely on engendering audience sympathy toward characters who show bravery in the face of the enemy. By this definition, Nicholson is a hero while Shears is not. This point is driven home repeatedly after he endures a lengthy isolation in "the oven", a corrugated metal cell designed to break his will. When this fails, Saito tries a softer touch, including corned beef and Scotch. Yet Nicholson wisely understands that despite these threats and bribes that he has the leverage. Should Saito kill Nicholson, he might incite more escape attempts. More important for him, he'd lose men needed to build the bridge he is accountable for having completed in a few months. Ultimately, Nicholson succeeds by identifying flaws in the Japanese engineers' plans for the bridge, compelling Saito to let him and his officers adopt the administrative role over their soldiers that Nicholson was demanding in the first place. The proud Saito is forced to concoct an excuse about "amnesty", coinciding with a victory over Russia a half century ago to save face; but after this show of bravery, everyone in camp truly knows who commands respect now. Civilized society on the whole considers those who thwart brutish violence with wit to be heroes. When Nicholson and his officers hold what is essentially a board meeting with Saito about the revised bridge construction, all that Saito can do is look on in stunned acquiescence. Little by little, it appears that Nicholson is chipping away at Saito's authority, undermining the Japanese and demoralizing his captors from within by way of his efficiency and discipline. This would be clever but not all that revealing about human nature if this was where Nicholson's inner motivations ended.
Right after this, Shears' story takes over, and it becomes crucial in laying the groundwork to reveal just how easily our assumptions can be misled and misguided. Shears may be appear to be a "coward" at the film's start, but he makes valid points about the nature of war and survival. His journey through the jungle and mountains is a lush and vibrant trek, something that I have no doubt inspired Terrence Malick's The Thin Red Line. He, Warden, and a young, green soldier named Lieutenant Joyce (Geoffrey Horne) enjoy the company of several lovely Thai maidens who help carry the plastic explosives for them. (Romance is implied between them and Joyce, and probably Shears). The film's critical moment about how deadly their mission truly is comes after a Japanese scouting party finds them bathing in the stream, leading to a bloody firefight. The threat becomes real, steeling Shears' nerves, essentially putting him in the key position of guaranteeing the mission's success--that being to deny the Japanese an avenue to continue their imperialist invasion of Asia. When we return to Nicholson, he is complaining to the camp doctor, Major Clipton (James Donald)--who has been skeptical that building a reliable bridge for the Japanese is in their best interests--that they have a "crisis" on their hands. That crisis is that the bridge will not be done on time. Suddenly, Nicholson has supplanted Saito, since he is now the one driven to see the bridge completed on time, and even compels some of the sick and wounded--and, ironically, his own officers--into working first-hand on it. It is here that audiences should become concerned that Nicholson's motivations have shifted from slyly subverting Saito's authority and that he has instead become what Clipton had warned him about becoming from the start: a collaborator. Is this because Nicholson has become too sympathetic to Saito, or is it that he so driven by order and discipline himself that his drive surmounts his patriotism? It's from here that The Bridge on the River Kwai flips the script, forcing us to redefine our sense of heroism (and the film's heroes), leading to an uneasy feeling that lasts beyond those final tragic words Clipton delivers before the credits roll: "Madness...madness..."
Recommended for: Fans of a morally complex war story that forces us to examine (and then reexamine) how we define heroism and bravery. The Bridge on the River Kwai is a gripping and tense tale; expect to find yourself whistling the "Colonel Bogey March" for some time afterward.